


Wake Me Up

by Neptunium134



Category: Midsomer Murders - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death In Dream, F/M, Nightmares, Temporary Character Death, but he doesn't actually die tho don't worry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:29:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29681898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neptunium134/pseuds/Neptunium134
Summary: Or: 5 times John thought Jamie died (but didn't) and the one time he didn't(Don't worry, Jamie doesn't actually die, please don't hurt me)
Relationships: John Barnaby & Jamie Winter, John Barnaby/Sarah Barnaby
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5





	Wake Me Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [midsomer4life](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midsomer4life/gifts).



> So, um, don't kill me...
> 
> This was based on a dream I had (which also sparked the idea for baby Jamie, ironically)
> 
> This is a 5+1, so you get to experience pain 5 times! Yay!
> 
> I'll see myself out...

John looked at the clock on his computer.

_ 8.05 _

The DCI frowned, looking at the empty desk opposite him. It wasn’t like Winter to be late, the Sergeant was usually in much earlier than he was.

He’d called Winter’s mobile, but every time it had gone to voicemail, Winter’s cheery voice telling him to “ _ Leave a message! _ ”

John set his phone back down on the table and ran his hand over his face. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he was worried. The case they were working on was brutal, four people had been practically butchered in the span of two days and none of the people they’d questioned had been of much use, most deciding it would be more fun to waste police time than help them catch a murderer.

One of the suspects- a man in his mid-forties by the name of Callum Brooks- had taken a particular interest in Jamie, often sidling up to the obviously uncomfortable Sergeant. Brooks seemed to gain a sick kind of pleasure from the Sergeant’s discomfort.

Fleur walked into the office and cocked an eyebrow at Winter's vacant desk.

“No Winter today?” She asked, pulling open a filing cabinet drawer and putting the file in her hands in the drawer.

Barnaby frowned. “He hasn't rung in to say he's not coming in, and he hasn't booked the day off. Normally he tells me if he isn't coming in.”

“Maybe you should go and check up on him, make sure he's just overslept,” Fleur suggested.

"Good idea," John stood up. "Come on."

The two bundled into John's car and the DCI drove down the tiny road that led to Jamie's house.

It was a small house, the first floor being only slightly smaller than the ground, situated at the end of a tiny lane off the main road. 

John knocked on Jamie’s door.

No response.

John and Fleur exchanged a look, it wasn’t like Winter to not give some sort of answer, especially after what happened in  Little Crosby. 

There had been one time he hadn’t answered his phone, causing John to into a frenzy and rush over to Jamie’s house, only to find that his sergeant had been taken by a bout of the flu and had to get out of bed to answer his phone which he’d left in his coat pocket in his confusion.

John had immediately taken Jamie back to the Barnaby’s house and left his DS in the capable hands of his wife, and when he got home, he noticed Jamie had regained a bit of colour to his cheeks and looked a little less like the zombie that John had been confronted with when he broke down Jamie’s door.

John fished Jamie’s spare keys out of his pocket- Jamie had given them to him when he returned to work with a “next time you won’t have to break my door down, Sir”- and unlocked the door.

Aside from the creaking of the front door opening, the house was silent. No shower running, no footsteps, no miffed DS shouting from his bedroom that it was only five past eight, he wasn’t  _ that _ late.

Nothing.

“Winter? Winter, are you here?” John called, quickly ascending the stairs that led to Jamie’s upstairs, peering into the DS’ room.

It was a ramshackle. There were clothes everywhere, the chest of drawers pulled out and the wardrobe doors hanging on by their hinges. Jamie’s laptop was open on his bed, the screen shattered and his phone smashed, the glass of the screen crunching under John’s shoes.

“John…” Fleur’s voice carried up the stairs.

John ran back downstairs and entered the living room, stopping in his tracks and falling to his knees.

There was blood everywhere, staining the cream carpet, splattered on the walls and the furniture, the stench of iron overwhelming.

In the middle of it all was Jamie Winter, impaled on the spear that had been stolen from the Historical Society’s archives the day before, head tilted up towards the ceiling, glassy eyes open and unfocused.

  
  


John jolted awake, breath coming in harsh pants.

Beside him, Sarah stirred.

John ran a hand down his face, grimacing at the sweat and tears that accumulated there.

It had just been a dream, _thank God_.

Never before had he had a nightmare about sergeant, not even when Jones had been on Grady Felton's hit list.

“John?” Came Sarah's tired voice and a light was switched on. “Are you alright?”

John blinked a few times in the harsh light and took a deep breath. "Just a bad dream."

“Do you want to talk about it?”

_ Not particularly _ , John thought, but he knew Sarah wouldn't let it go.

“Winter and I were on a case, pretty gruesome, and one morning he didn't show up for work.” John tipped his head back against the headboard. "Fleur and I went to his house, someone had obviously broken into it, smashed his things up, and-" his throat seized up. He swallowed thickly. “They'd murdered him, Sarah. Impaled him on a spear, of all things. How-”

Tears flowed down his face. “How could someone do that to him? What did he do to deserve it?”

Sarah drew him in for a hug, arms wrapping around his shoulders. John broke down in sobs, burying his face in her shoulder.

“Why don’t you call him? It might help you to hear his voice.” Sarah proposed and John nodded, letting out a shaky sigh.

He picked his phone up off the bedside table and unplugged it from its charger, scrolling through his contacts until he saw Jamie’s name.

He pressed on the ‘call’ button and brought the phone to his ear, listening to it  dial and then ring Jamie’s number.

The ringing cut out after a few seconds and was replaced by what John assumed to be  _ very  _ colourful Dutch swearing.

“ _ Mierenneuker! _ ” Jamie’s voice carried down the line. John let out a relieved sob.

There was a pause. “ _Are you okay, sir?_ ”

“I’m fine, Winter. Just wanted to check up on you.”

“ _You never do that._ ” Jamie’s voice was oddly serious. “ _Did something happen, Sir?_ ”

John ran a hand through his hair, thankful for Sarah going to the bathroom, leaving him alone in the bedroom.

“I dreamt that you died,” John mumbled.

There was a pause.

“ _Oh._ ” Jamie said. “ _Uh, well, I’m not dead?_ ” He attempted to joke.

John finally cracked a smile. “Yeah, I can tell that, Winter.”

With that, he hung up and put his phone back on charge.

**Author's Note:**

> Translation: "Mierenneuker" is "ant screwer" in Dutch  
> I just thought it was a funny insult, so I forced you to read it
> 
> Come and scream at me on Tumblr- @neptunium134
> 
> Special thanks to my beta reader, @midsomer4life (AO3 and Tumblr)


End file.
